Lula Lisbon, Author: Official Website

I’m happy to host Victoria Blisse today for her blog tour promoting her erotic novella, Sharing Nicely. The excerpt is very hot! I’m looking forward to reading the book! -LL

The Men behind the Money.

As I’m promoting Sharing Nicely, I’m talking a lot about two hot, sexy Billionaires. It captures the attention I suppose but in this blog I want you to see the men behind all that money. Let me introduce you to Greg Stamford and Darren Bennett.

Greg Stamford is the owner of Stamford Telecoms. It’s a multi-million pound mobile phone company which cover everything from apps to the mobile network itself. Greg works as CEO and spends most of the time at work, working and being a complete workaholic.

He’s also a really good cook, has a wicked sense of humour and enjoys cleaning and tidying up. Greg is not a man to mess with but when he smiles it lights up the Room.

Darren Bennett is the Head of Bear Enterprises and his company specialises in computer games and mobile phone apps. His apps are in direct competition with Gregs. Darren is originally from Liverpool and even though he now lives in London his Scouse accent still shines through. He’s a cheeky chappy who likes to wear novelty ties and loves being the centre of attention. He knows how to pull a pint and is fiercely loyal. He knows how to romance a woman and loves to shower Kerry with expensive gifts.

Which Billionaire do you fancy? Kerry likes both, but which one will she choose?

*****

Excerpt:

“So, are you two ready?” he asked. “I’ll get Chester to bring the limo round.”

If the billionaires could be so abrupt with me, I’d be snappy with them.

“Fine,” Darren shrugged, “but we’re going back to my hotel.”

“Where are you staying?”

While the boys argued amongst themselves I took the date book and locked it away in my desk. I’d filled up a lot of the year and some dates had drifted into the next one. With the business I’d secured I was guaranteed to finish the fiscal year pleasantly in profit. I might even be able to afford a holiday. If I could persuade myself to stay away from Diamonds long enough.

When I walked back over to them the boys were silent.

“So, are we actually ready now?”

Greg reacted first, slipping his arm into mine and smiling.

“Yes, it seems me and Darren are staying at the same hotel.”

“Wonderful,” I smiled, intensely relieved. “Lead the way.”

Darren took hold of my other arm and we strode out together. I wasn’t expecting the barrage of flashing lights and yelled questions that greeted us. I supposed I had been a little naïve. The boys, with the aid of some huge security guards, pushed past the demands and we scooted into the back of a shiny black limousine. The mellow scent of leather filled the interior. Everything sparkled. I felt like we were in a separate car to the driver who was way, way down at the front.

“Are we going to the hotel, sir?” a polite voice asked. It sounded like it came from behind me, which was puzzling until I realised there was some kind of intercom device. Greg reached to the side of the limo and pressed a button.

“Yes, please, Chester.”

I would have liked more space to actually enjoy the ride home but I was crowded by two competing men and so spent my time flipping my gaze from one to the other, answering questions. Both were squeezed up close to me and both seemed determined to seduce me. I found that mind-spinningly crazy.

“What perfume are you wearing?” Darren ducked his head to sniff at my neck. I was very aware of his lips hovering just above my pulse point. I wished he’d kiss me there.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something fruity.” My mind went completely blank.

“You smell good enough to eat.” Darren continued and his lips did touch my skin but only for the briefest second. My whole body tightened at the gentle kiss.

“Your dress is beautiful.” It seemed Greg was not to be outdone—in fact he boldly ran his hand down my body from my shoulder, over my breast and lower. “I love the feel of velvet.”

Tension zinged through me, sexual and otherwise. These two guys who I’d only just met were making me into a battlefield. They were warring to control me.

I wasn’t a woman who enjoyed being mollycoddled. I took decisions, I dived into situations and I expected all of my staff to be respectful to both men and women. I’d reprimanded several for sexism and would go as far as to sack someone if they didn’t change their ways. I should have been appalled by the situation—I wasn’t just a trophy or a business contract. I should have kicked up a fuss and left then and there.

But I didn’t. I liked being the centre of attention. I liked being the prize they both wanted.

I waited for the next move but we pulled up outside the hotel so I had to wait until we exited the car. Again, both men linked arms with me. It was cold outside but apart from the cool breeze on my cheeks I barely felt it because their hard bodies protected me from the elements.

They whisked me across the marble frontage, past the liveried doorman and into a huge reception area. It glittered with prestige and marble. Everything was perfect, neat and tidy. There was nothing overly ornate or showy but you could tell by the purposeful minimalism that this was a very classy place. The kind of place I’d only ever imagined visiting.

We moved across the hall into the bar. Again it was big, shiny but understated. The bar was long and all the staff behind it were in immaculately cut uniforms. They all looked smart and tidy and I looked on with envy. I wished I could get my own staff to look so impressive.

“What would you like to drink?” Darren asked and smirked at Greg.

“I’d love a glass of water, really,” I replied, “I’m so thirsty.”

“I’ll get them to send over some water too, but should we have some champagne? It was a very good night for us all after all.”

Both Darren and Greg had won awards and I was sure they’d both made several deals too as they played the room.

“Yes, why not?” Greg answered before me. “Champagne sounds good.”

When Darren moved away Greg turned to me.

“Look, Kerry, I really would love to spend the night with you but it is killing me to be nice to him.”

“This is you being nice?”

“Exactly.” He almost smiled. I found it surprisingly endearing. “Please can we dump the other guy?”

“No.” I was very firm, it surprised even me. “No, I said I wanted to spend time with you both, so that is what’s going to happen. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“God, woman. You’re infuriatingly stubborn.” He growled.

“Now that is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” I laughed.

Greg sighed. “I’m not used to being told what to do, Kerry. I’m the one in control.”

“I’d noticed, but if you want me, you play by my rules.” It was fun playing him at his own game.

“Oh, I want you.” His growl turned to a gravelly purr. It wasn’t cute, it was the noise of a killer beast merely at rest. Any moment he could pounce and rip me apart. It turned me on. I wriggled in my seat and my damp knickers chafed against my plump lips.

“Then you’ll share nicely.” I leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked, almost as much as I was. His lips were hard and ungiving for a moment—I thought maybe I’d pushed him too far—but then they melted, opened and pushed back and I felt his pent-up arousal running into me. I released my frustrated desire with every move of my lips.

We pulled apart and I had to pant to regain my breath while he licked his lips like he was savouring the taste.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said. I was intoxicated with the power of having him under my control.

“Hey, I want one too.” Darren came back, placed a glass of water before me and pressed his lips to mine. His were plump and giving. He prodded his tongue between my lips, into my mouth, taking control of the kiss and control of me. I felt like I might explode into a million pieces. I hadn’t been kissed in months and now I’d had two smoking hot smooches in as many minutes from two very hot but very different men.

“Okay,” I gasped when he pulled away, “now you’re even.”

The guys glowered at each other. I looked around the room to calm my nerves. Not a single person looked at us. Obviously such things happened often in bars of high-class hotels. It didn’t happen often to me. At all, in fact. I wondered if I was dreaming. I pinched my thigh below the table. It hurt. I definitely wasn’t dreaming.

A tall, skinny waiter brought us a bottle of champagne stood in a silver ice bucket. Balanced on his tray were three tall flutes. He transferred everything to our table with great pomp. I was in awe of his skill.

“Thank you,” I called. He nodded his head politely and walked off.

I knew a little about wine and champagne, only because my barman told me what I needed to order. The champagne in the bucket was clearly expensive—I’d never even heard of the name—and it was suitably French, obviously. I was sure Darren had ordered the most expensive in the place just to outdo Greg. I outdid both of them by just sipping at my water.

“Shall we take the rest of the bottle to my room?”

I nearly choked when I heard what Greg had said.

“Pardon?”

“Well, you wanted us to share nicely and I don’t think that even in an establishment like this where confidentiality is taken seriously we could share you, nicely or otherwise, right here in the bar.”

It took a moment to register that Greg Stamford, billionaire high-flyer and serious hottie, was propositioning me for a threesome. I’d agreed to it earlier, but it still seemed too much like a fairy tale to be actually real.

“I agree, mate. We’d get chucked out. Want to go to my room? It’s the Ambassador Suite.” Darren announced this like I should be impressed. Maybe it was the most expensive room in the hotel? I wasn’t sure.

“My room has the best view over the city,” Greg snapped.

“Yes, that’s what they tell people who can’t get in the Ambassador Suite.”

“Boys, stop it.” My voice was quite loud. The low murmur of conversation stopped for a moment, then carried on.

“Look. You are both very rich, I get it. You both want to be top dog, I get that too, but would you stop bickering like bloody schoolboys, okay? I am very flattered, truly, and I never in a million years would have imagined being in this situation…” I left the sentence hanging and gathered my thoughts.

“Please don’t say no.” Darren’s smile dissipated. “I’m sorry.”

“Well—” I tried to continue with my tirade. I had the moral high ground. I was going to say thanks but no thanks and leave both gentleman hanging, but say that I hoped they’d both still honour their bookings. I was going to make a stand, I really was. Then… Well, I’m not quite sure what happened.

Had I heard that right? Had Greg Stamford apologised and ceded to his most hated rival?

“Yes, let’s,” Darren nodded. “Please, Kerry?”

I challenge any woman alive to not cave in when hit with not one but two sets of puppy dog eyes from intensely handsome men. I couldn’t do it.

“Come on then,” I whispered, “lead the way.”

*****

Two hot, sexy billionaires know what they want and they want her, but will they be happy to share nicely?

Kerry Matthews is used to stress—she runs her own high-end London club called Diamonds, but what she isn’t used to is attention from two very persuasive and powerful men.

Darren Bennett and Greg Stamford are life-long rivals, but call a truce to spend one night with sassy, curvy Kerry. They’re not content to share forever though. They both have a selfish desire to possess her completely.

Darren buys her seductive lingerie, flowers and chocolates, Greg flies her to Paris for a romantic break, cleans her flat and makes her breakfast in bed. Both vying to cement their place in her heart. She needs to decide between them but is dazzled by their persuasive personas and extravagant gifts.

Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of MFM Ménage and some violence.

Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco and Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.

Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut by the Sea Event taking place at Scarborough Library (UK) on the 22nd June 2013. A day dedicated to Erotica with a mini erotic marketplace and lots of Author Readings, Fun Giveaways and Exciting Talks.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker (She is TEB’s Resident “Naked Chef”) and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.

Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

Like this:

There is so much going on for today’s post I hardly know where to begin. I’m proud to announce that my first inclusion in a print anthology has been in Cleis Press’s recent release, The Big Book of Orgasms: 69 Sexy Stories, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. Since I began writing, I have been independently publishing straight to eBook, so this is a big first step for me into the world of “big girl publishing.”

Somewhat Related Teaser: I have another story in an unrelated print anthology, coming soon through another publisher, but I can’t talk details yet. 😉 I can say that fans of my work and of femdom BDSM will be very pleased, though!

Today I’ve got an interview with Rachel, an excerpt from my story, and a giveaway. I don’t know how much more you could possibly want out of one blog post! And just look at this cover. I’m getting hot just looking at it.

Interview:

Hi Rachel! Thanks so much for the interview. How did you start out as a writer, and what led to your transition to editing?

I’ve always written, since I was little, in one form or another. My earliest published writings were letters to the editor. I started writing erotica in 1999 at the tail end of attending law school. I got into editing erotica based on writing it; I was first asked to co-edit an anthology and then from there to edit my own and now get to pitch brainstorm and pitch my own ideas for anthologies that focus on topics I’m interested in, such as spanking. I like doing both because writing is so solitary and involves being so utterly in my head, and even though I also do my editing alone at my computer, it involves interacting with other people and discovering and getting to publish writing I never in a million years could have written myself.

It was sort of a mashup of two other books I’d edited that readers liked, Orgasmic, which features 25 stories featuring female protagonists and Gotta Have It, which also features 69 short stories of 1,200 words or less. That book was a new format, smaller and more compact, so I and Cleis Press thought it would be interesting to combine them, but this time expand beyond just female orgasms and female authors. I like having the opportunity to work with three times as many authors as I do in a typical anthology. It also made me value each and every word, since the stories are all short, those words have to do a lot more work to create a full story with a beginning, middle and end and still be arousing and on the theme of orgasm. I also love the variety of writing styles and characters and settings and orgasms and creativity, as well as hearing which stories resonate with which readers. There are some very loving tender stories and some extremely kinky ones, there’s heterosexual, bisexual, lesbian, gay, transgender, and I’m not even sure how to classify the gender change in “Remote Control” by Logan Zachary.

Will there be book readings/signings, and when/where?

There will be a San Francisco reading (https://www.facebook.com/events/186231794893318/) on November 6th at Good Vibrations at 1620 Polk Street at 6:30, with me and 9 contributors, Lily K. Cho, Malin James, Crystal Jordan, Sinclair Sexsmith, Donna George Storey, B.D. Swain, Virgie Tovar, Jade A. Waters and Xan West , and one in New York on January 3 at reading series Between the Covers (http://betweenthecoversnyc.wordpress.com/) at the Museum of Sex at 233 Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, with me, yourself, Andreas Amsterdam, Jeremy Edwards, Drew Griffiths, Thea Landen, Lillian Ann Slugocki, Suleikha Snyder and possibly a few others. [Yes, I’ll be reading live in New York City! If you’ve been wanting to meet me, this is the time and place to do it! -LL] That’s all as of right now, though I’m looking for a way to host a virtual book party and if I can round up enough authors I’d love to do another reading. I’ll also be teaching erotic writing workshops in the next few months in Albuquerque, Austin, Portland, Maine and New York, and workshops March 14th for CatalystCon (http://catalystcon.com/register/pre-con/ ) attendees.

Do you think you’ll always be an erotica writer? Are there other genres in which you’re interested?

I’ve always told myself that if I get bored writing erotica I’ll quit, but that hasn’t happened yet. Sometimes I write more or less erotica, but I always come back to it and love the moment of insight when a new story idea comes to me. I do hope to write a young adult novel and possibly branch out, but as of now erotica and erotic romance are the only fiction I’ve written, though I also do a lot of essays and journalism, which I think helps balance me.

I get this question myself a lot. Do you have any advice for aspiring erotica writers?

Write in a style that’s true to you about characters and topics you’re interested in. Be aware of but don’t pander to the market. Everyone’s sexuality is different and the more you can tease out your own voice and style and passion, the more that will come through in the writing. I’d also encourage people to utilize any specialized knowledge they have about the world and find a way to incorporate that into your erotica. For instance, I’ve played in a lot of chess tournaments, so I’ve used that as a setting for an erotica story. Use as much sensory detail as you can, without giving just a literal play by play, and use all five senses. Make the reader care about the characters not just when they’re having sex, but before and after; that will make the sex scenes more rewarding, powerful and memorable.

Is there anything special you do to celebrate once a project is finished, be it a story, novel, or anthology?

I don’t do anything special per se, but I am always very relieved when I hit send on a story submission or an anthology manuscript. Then I’m usually on to the next thing.

“Write drunk, edit sober.” True or false?

Save for extremely rare occasions, I don’t drink, so I don’t write drunk. Though there are definitely times when I’m in a bit of a writing trance, because I’ll later look at a story I’ve written and wonder where it came from and how I wrote it.

I think it’s like that for any kind of artist, despite the medium. I’ve experienced it myself countless times. I think there’s a reason why the ancient Greeks believed in Muses, and that “trance” is it. Anyway, final question. What was it like writing for Penthouse Variations?

I was an editor for over 7 years at Penthouse Variations. That was my first magazine job and it taught me so much about being a careful and sometimes ruthless editor, about how to gloss a topic and do it justice, and about the variety of fetishes and kinks out there.

I knew she had something devilish planned, but I couldn’t imagine what it might be. It was my birthday, and she’d baked me cupcakes; I was to report to her on my knees at her door as per usual. She loved to toy with my orgasms, denying them, forcing them, coming up with any number of ways to make them humiliating for me and exciting for her. For two full weeks she’d denied me release, and it had been hard—very hard. Teasing me, testing me, she’d sent me pictures of her body, described in detail what she wanted to do to me, how she wanted me to please her. I wasn’t allowed to touch my cock, because she wanted me ready to celebrate my birthday.

I’d unintentionally disobeyed her around the one-week mark. In a vivid dream, she fucked my ass hard with her purple strap-on, something she only did as a reward when I’d been very good. Her fingernails dug into my hips, and when I felt her starting to come inside me, screaming her delight, I couldn’t hold myself back.

When I opened my eyes, still feeling the delicious pulsing in my balls, there was a pool of creamy come on my abs and chest. My heart sank. I wanted to call her and immediately confess, but I already knew what her orders would be. Filled with guilt, I dipped my fingers in, a kid stealing a taste from the mixing bowl, once, twice, again, until it was all gone.

Giveaway:

Enter to win a free copy of The Big Book of Orgasms by posting one of your favorite lines from one of my short stories (not from the excerpts online, that’s cheating!) into the comments section. Hint: I have one free story, so purchase isn’t required, but I have lots of other stories from which to choose, starting at only $2.99, if you’d like to support an independent author! Fine print: Cleis Press will have final say over the winner and distribution of prizes. Retail value of prize: Kindle version $9.99, print version $12.34. Deadline: November 30, 2013.

When I learned about sex growing up, a lot of what I was taught focused on the male experience. I was told that men would say anything to get laid—their hormones would take control and they would claim that it physically hurt to be denied. On the other hand, I saw plenty of magazine covers promising to teach how to please my man.

What was missing from both of these narratives was that neither one suggested that sex might be an experience centered in myself. No one warned me that when I started making out with people I might have trouble holding myself back. I’d heard plenty about how to fight off a horny guy, but nothing about what to do if I was mindlessly horny myself. I also didn’t learn about pleasing myself when with someone else, or about asking someone else to please me. For many, many years, male orgasm marked the ending of sex for me—even if I wasn’t finished yet.

I give this bit of personal history because the heroine in my new erotic romance, Run for Your Love, is in the process of busting through these limiting perceptions. Viola is discovering that there’s another way to have sex—a way that pleases her and expresses and recognizes her own desires. She’s learning that when a guy asks, “Are you feeling it?” she doesn’t have to automatically say that she is.

I plot my stories pretty tightly, but many times the mood of the sex that the characters are having winds up surprising me. In Run for Your Love, Zach and Viola both come off a bit innocent. Together, they’re discovering how sex can be when a real connection is formed. Each of them learns how to seek their own pleasure and share that with each other.

Many times, I find my political or feminist beliefs working their way into my work (though I always hope that adds to the sexy fun rather than detracting from it). My life changed when I learned that my sexuality if my own, and that I choose to share it with my partners. It changed when I learned that when I have sex, I will get turned on myself rather than be a passive recipient, and that it’s okay for me to want to do what feels good to me. I am still in the process of releasing myself from the idea of sex as work—something I do to make the other person come, and that I’ve failed at if I haven’t achieved that goal.

I was thrilled by Zach and Viola’s discoveries with each other. It exhilarated me to write about a woman whose sexuality is flowering. For Viola, it takes the zombie apocalypse to make this happen. She needs extreme situations to break out of the prison she’s been living in. My subconscious may have used that to express how difficult I found it to claim my sex life, but my fervent wish is that this will become much easier for women. I would love for the common sexual narratives to include the perspective of female pleasure—the things that Viola is just uncovering.

Excerpt:

I’d never come with a guy inside me before. Mostly because every guy until Zach seemed to assume the magic of his dick alone would get me there. When the orgasmic spasms started up, I felt him there at the very center of me while my muscles squeezed around him, and it kind of blew my mind. I never thought it would feel so good to have that hard length resisting me, pushing back against the tingling sensations so that they spread out and bounced to new places inside me.

I didn’t even worry about how I looked to him. If he had a problem with that, he would have said something already. I held myself up as best as I could, ignoring the throb of my arm in favor of the throb of my clit. Every part of me that touched any part of him tingled.

When it passed, I realized I’d been staring into Zach’s eyes the whole time, and he lay under me smiling as if he was genuinely happy for me. I realized how long it had been since I’d really moved, and apologized, remembering how much other guys had hated when I forgot to keep thrusting.

“Don’t apologize,” Zach said. He didn’t seem impatient at all. Instead, his voice sounded thick, weighted with lust that, for once, I reciprocated. “I think that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

His fingers still rested on my most sensitive places, but he’d stopped rubbing without needing to be told they’d be too tender at the moment. I blinked, amazed by how much he seemed to understand.

“What can I do for you?” I asked. I meant it too. The offer came out spontaneously, not because I needed to keep him happy but because I wanted to share his desires the way he’d shared mine. “How do you like it?”

Zach moaned. “I like it with you,” he said. “You make it feel so…sexy.”

“Well, it is sex.”

“You know how it can be awkward.”

I blinked. Maybe I didn’t know that, not quite. I did know how it could be fake. I wondered if everyone’s got something they usually hold back or worry about while they’re in bed with someone else. Not having to do that with Zach exhilarated me, especially now that I suspected the feeling was mutual. A flicker of fear rose up along with that joy, and I pushed it aside. Later, we could worry about what it all meant.

I took both his hands and eased them away from my body, coming to rest on his chest instead. “Show me what you want me to do.”

Blurb:

Shotguns seem to be everyone’s favorite accessory for the zombie apocalypse, but Zach Paul believes he can survive without hurting anyone—not even the zombies. An elite-level runner, he plans to speed away from every danger. Then Zach meets a woman he can’t bring himself to leave behind, and staying beside her tests all his principles.

Viola Ortiz fought free of her controlling boyfriend just before the zombies came, but now she believes her macho ex is the only one who can protect her. She sets out to reunite with him, only to encounter Zach instead. The tall, lean runner is everything her ex is not, and Viola is shocked to find he turns her on as no man has before. Viola’s ex, however, isn’t willing to let go of her, and soon it’s clear that other survivors are as dangerous as the zombies.

Zach and Viola can run, but they must find safety before they lose their humanity in the struggle to protect their lives and growing love.

Annabeth Leong has written romance and erotica of many flavors — dark, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her titles for Breathless Press include the contemporary werewolf erotic romances Not His Territory and Not the Leader of the Pack, and Run for Your Love, a romance set in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong

Buy One, Get One Free Offer:

Did you miss Annabeth’s previous titles with Breathless Press? Not to worry. E-mail proof of purchase of Run for Your Love, such as an Amazon receipt, to annabeth dot leong at gmail dot com and let her know your e-book format of choice. Annabeth will buy a copy of her werewolf novella, Not His Territory, for anyone who sends this information before November 12, 2013.

Halloween special!

If you send your proof of purchase on Halloween, I’ll throw in a couple extra spooky surprises!

BLURB: Three years as an exotic dancer left author Lula Lisbon with a head full of steamy stories! In this semi-autobiographical entry of Dirty Diaries, Lula has a shy customer named Jay who’s always dreamt of worshipping a dominant woman’s feet, but previous girlfriends had only been disgusted by his fetish. He’s never had the chance to live his fantasy, until Lula takes full advantage of the situation.

EXCERPT:

“Hmm?” I demanded, pinching the point of his chin to bring his attention back to me. I couldn’t make out the whispered answer. “I can’t hear you!”

“I want to kiss your feet,” he repeated. The blush was deeper on his cheeks, his whole body a disclaimer of his abject humiliation. I smiled, a shark circling its prey.

“Your co**?” I provided helpfully. He plucked at his sleeve once more, saying nothing. His discomfort, strangely enough, both melted me and turned me on. I wanted to change that about him, to make him revel in his desire instead of fear it.
“Get on your knees,” I ordered. “Unstrap my heels and place them neatly to the side. If you’re good, you might just get what you want so badly.”

His eyes jumped to mine, wondering, questioning. He read only cool intent in my face, none of the disdain he seemed to expect; and with that, he visibly relaxed. He dropped into a kneel, bending his head over my ankles as he reverently undid the tiny buckles and slid each elegant size 7 off — first one, then the other, leaving me in just my sheer black stockings. He rubbed one crimson-polished toenail through the fine nylon with his thumb, hips jerking almost imperceptibly, but I was watching for it.

The perspiration had evaporated from my skin by this point, but my stockings were still damp. I wanted to see how far I could take the scene, and I was determined to test his limits. When he started to massage my foot, though, I was surprised at how good it felt, especially at the end of a long shift. Momentarily distracted, I moaned a little, sinking deeper into the couch. He squirmed, glancing up at my face, and his fingers paused in their movements.

“Don’t stop, it feels amazing.” Jay smiled a little, resuming the massage and tracing the high arch of my foot with the balls of his thumbs, then with his knuckles. As he worked, I ran my other stockinged foot along his arm, down his side, and across his lap. I could feel the thick bulge of his hard-on through his slacks, and made a purr of pleasure. “Looks like you think so too. You feel so scrumptious underneath my toes.” He moaned when I wiggled them against his cock, but my foot only lingered there for a few seconds before I took it away again. “I’ve been working hard all night,” I said conversationally. “I’m still sweaty, including my feet.” I put my foot on his cheek, and he flinched away. “What, suddenly you’re turned off? I can’t really believe that. Don’t lie to me. I know you’re into it.”

Jay closed his eyes, reluctantly surrendering, but leaning hard into the sole of my foot. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’m just so used to pretending that I — well, never mind. I love the smell, especially after she’s had a long day.” He adjusted himself in his pants, and I saw that his bulge had grown. “I can’t help it, your pheromones drive me crazy.” I traced his lips with my toe, working my way into his mouth. His tongue flicked against my skin and I drew in a sharp breath.

Like this:

1956 is the golden age of pretty young carhops, and Dotty is no exception. It’s her birthday, but she couldn’t have guessed just how swell a turn her special day would take when two dangerous-looking cats pull up in a souped-up hot rod. Dotty’s always been a nice girl. Will she really toss her reputation to go play back seat bingo with a couple of fast dykes who want to give her “one to grow on”?

EXCERPT:

“You ever had grass?” asked Sir, taking out a hand-rolled cigarette from an inside pocket and lighting it up. I hadn’t, but I wasn’t about to look like a wet rag in front of these two.

“Sure,” I said breezily, accepting it and taking a drag. I coughed, but it wasn’t too bad. I even liked the taste of it; sort of earthy and pungent. The act of smoking it with them made me feel like the bees’ knees.

I could feel where her fingers had brushed mine when she handed over the cigarette, and I was suddenly aware of Miss Liz’s thigh pressed up against mine. I shifted a little, breaking contact, but she moved it right back. When she took a drag, her lipstick left an imprint on top of the one I’d made, and the sight of it made me feel a little giddy. She saw me looking and smiled slowly.

“How much I’d like to kiss those pretty lips of yours.” Her hand drifted up to rest under my chin. “Would you mind very much?” I stared at her, wide-eyed. Just a few hours ago I might have recoiled, but gosh, was she pretty. I had more than half a mind to actually let her do it.

“You— you wouldn’t tell anybody, wouldja? I mean—” She laughed a little, shaking her head, and pressed a finger to my lips.

“We won’t tell, pinky swear.” She came in slowly, and I could smell her perfume: musk and powder and elegance. Maybe Chanel no. 5, I thought distantly, the instant before her soft lips met mine.

Like this:

Nikki’s a lesbian, but she can’t help the lingering sexual tension she still feels for her ex-boyfriend, Mike. They hang out one night as friends, but things soon grow heated. She’s missed what he does with his tongue, and he’s missed what she does with her strap-on. Is hooking up with an ex really always such a terrible idea? Sometimes, it’s just what both parties desperately need.

EXCERPT:

The embrace lingers just a beat too long, and I can feel my pulse in my fingertips. I hope it’s dark enough so that he can’t see me blush, but he sees something in my face and smiles. To my relief, Mike doesn’t comment. I can practically hear his thoughts, though. I still think you’re amazingly sexy, his eyes say. If you want me, I’m yours.

I laugh nervously, trying to ease the tension. “Um— are you okay to drive?” He waggles his hand in a “comme ci comme ça” gesture and shrugs. “Well, you should definitely wait a while to leave, then. Wanna watch a movie?”

“‘Kay.”

I dig in my bag for my keys, and a warm breeze gusts suddenly. Again I pick up his scent: a mixture of clean male, sandalwood, and a hint of earthy weed smoke. I want to drink him in. I bite my lip, trying in vain to ignore my rebellious body while I slide the key into the lock. The door jerks open and I let him in after me. I start up the carpeted stairs to my third-floor walk-up. Suddenly a little self-conscious, I glance over my shoulder to find him checking out my ass. “Mike! You’re looking up my skirt, I totally caught you!”

“Duh, your butt’s in my face, your skirt is short, and I can see right up it. Hell yeah, I’m gonna look!” I try to keep a stern face, but I can’t help but laugh.

“You think you get a free show just because you bought the last round? You’re gonna have to pay for that.” He only grins up at me, obviously unrepentant. But the beer-and-weed combo is making me feel reckless and daring. I stare down at him, considering. Fuck it, I think. Two can play at this, and I mean to win. “Fine, then.” I yank the hem of my skirt up around my hips and hook the back leg of my panties with one thumb, pulling the thin cotton to the side. “Lick my ass, and you’d better do it good. By the way— from now on, you’re my little slut, and you’re gonna worship my whole body all night long.”

He hasn’t heard me talk like this in years. His eyes widen, and I see him instantly fall hard into subspace. I’d forgotten how much that shy, submissive look he gets turns me on. I stick my ass out at him and spread my legs. “Bitch, you’d better hurry, before my offer expires.”

Please follow along from July 1-5 to read interviews and exclusive behind-the-scenes peeks into the-writing-of, and enter to win one of five digital copies of Doubled: An Erotic Science Fiction Novellette. I’ll randomly pick one commenter from each blog stop and announce the winners next week.

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